Matching
by namedawesome
Summary: "Hermione held his gaze, his never judging, always caring gaze. "I'll figure it out," she said. "I know," Harry said just as softly as before."


_**Author's note: This part is from one of my Favorite 'Harry and Hermione Have Their Moments' moment. The bold/italics thing is. The next part is that changed up a bit, slightly more hopeful than the angst but still a ton of angst in the middle there. I was in a weird mood so I decided that I needed to write it. I feel loads better now so I think it worked… We'll see! Enjoy!**_

_**Harry was in pain. He could feel it but he knew there was nothing wrong with him. For a moment, he let the pain take him over completely before realizing that he was feeling Hermione's pain. It was all over. He was vaguely aware that Ron was screaming and trying to escape from their prison. The pain started again and this time, Harry was unable to stop the scream from ripping out of his throat. When it finally stopped, he saw Ron staring at him oddly. He was about to say something before an acute pain in his arm started to carve itself into his skin. He snapped out of his pain induced haze trying to fight off a wave of nausea that he thought that Hermione might be feeling too. **_

_**He called for Dobby and they escaped. Harry hadn't forgotten about their connection. Days later, Hermione said, in front of Ron and Bill and everyone, "You felt it, didn't you, Harry?" She was talking about the word 'Mudblood' being carved into her arm. He had to tell her the truth…**_

"_**Yes," Harry muttered rubbing his arm. What she didn't know was that the word was also carved into his arm. Ron knew, he had seen it and Harry was going to keep it that way. "I felt the Cruciatus curses too…"**_

_**She stared at him for a moment before she said, "I didn't feel anything after that first one, Harry." **_

_**He turned and stared at the fire, wondering if he should mention the word carved into his arm.**_

They were captured. Captured with nowhere to go and more than a few people to save. He was aware that something horrible was going to happen to Hermione up there but he didn't want to find out. Ron was screaming and Harry was looking into the mirror and shouting for help. When he had thought it wasn't successful, he rounded on Ron and yelled with more force than necessary, "Shut up! Shut up, you idiot! You're not going to help her like that!"

That was when he heard it: her scream. With it came the pain. Holy-fucking-Jesus he was in pain! He could feel it but he knew there was nothing wrong with him. For a moment, he let the pain take him over completely before realizing that he was feeling Hermione's pain. It didn't stop for a while but he didn't scream. Ron had started screaming again but Harry wasn't paying attention to him anymore. The pain hit him again, this time with more force and more pressure. He couldn't help but scream. The scream was ripped out of his throat almost forcefully. When it had stopped he was vaguely aware that Ron had stopped screaming and was staring at him like he was possessed. The pain was gone and Dobby had appeared. They needed to do something; Hermione couldn't go through that again.

As they were running through the corridor Harry felt and acute pain carve itself into his arm. He was almost doubled over with pain as they came into the room. Her arm was covered in blood but not as much as there ought to be, but Harry's was covered in a generous amount. The scuffle only lasted ten seconds but Dobby had died.

He buried the loyal elf and only then did he feel the ache of the Cruciatus curses he had half received. He was wrong. It wasn't half it was all, but he didn't know that yet. He forced himself to the cottage and leaned heavily against the door. He was grateful that black didn't show blood very well or they would've seen the scar he would now have. He'd be proud of it, he decided, because he had gotten it for her, with her.

"Harry, mate, you all right?" Ron paused. "You seemed like you were in a lot of pain…"

Harry shook him off, "Just need to get cleaned up." He stayed there for a moment before going up to Hermione and crouching down before her form lying on the couch. He moved a lock of hair from her face, kept his hand on her cheek, and watched as her eyes opened to look at him. "You all right, then?" he whispered.

She bit her lip and nodded; her eyes claiming 'not yet.' "You?" her voice was hoarse from all the screaming she had done. That was the largest response anyone had gotten out of her.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in response. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead after caressing her hair one last time. "We'll get you cleaned up, all right?" he whispered. He kissed her forehead again, feeling closer to her than ever before. He looked in her eyes and saw pain lingering there. "Go to sleep, yeah? You'll feel better after…" he soothed. She nodded against his hand and closed her eyes immediately drifting off, trusting him with her life.

"We've been trying to do that for a few minutes but she wasn't responding," Bill observed.

Harry nodded and tried to work out a kink in his neck. The Cruciatus curse was always the worst on the back and neck. Harry felt ready to collapse and asked where the shower was. There was no doubt that Fleur would clean Hermione while she was sleeping, but Harry wanted to clean himself. No one had to know about what happened there today between Hermione and he.

The next day Harry woke to the smell of a deliciously cooked breakfast. Before he could move, Ron entered and stared as Harry lay there shirtless. There was a shocked pause then a, "Where the bloody hell did you get that?"

"What?" Harry asked playing innocent.

Ron glared and cornered him as Harry pulled a long sleeved shirt on. "Where did you get that scar like Hermione's?" Ron growled.

"Yesterday," Harry sighed. "Remember when I was screaming in the dungeon?" Ron twitched and scowled. He walked silently to the door but Harry called him back with, "Don't tell her…"

"Don't tell her? Don't tell her?"Ron growled. "It's her scar! She has a right to know!"

"She'll feel terrible and you know it," Harry sighed. He was tired of fighting with Ron; it happened too often. "Besides," Harry said, "I recon I should tell her…"

Ron immediately calmed, "Right, you tell her. She wouldn't believe me or something, right?"

Harry quirked a tiny smile. It went away as he asked, "She alright then?"

"Still sleeping," came the sighed answer.

Harry went downstairs a few minutes later fully dressed new scar hidden. He saw her still on the couch. Hermione had been washed up sometime during the night and looked a bit more like herself. There was a bandage over her left forearm like there should've been on his, but he felt like he deserved to feel the shirt brush against his wound. He had apparated them there… It was his fault. He brought a hand to her hair and ran his fingers through it for a moment. He had intended to stop, but she was waking and really should eat breakfast anyway. Ron was in the doorway watching him, them really, but Harry didn't care.

Hermione opened her eyes as she felt something running through her hair rhythmically; it was soothing. She realized without really focusing that Harry was closest to her; she could smell him. She blinked and saw the boy in question squatting in front of her winding his hand through her hair. "Morning, Harry," she whispered.

He smiled in that soft crooked way that she loved. It was his worried smile. "Morning…" There was a pause, and his hand stopped and slid to her neck. He was checking her pulse, gathering evidence. "You hungry?" he asked after a while.

She nodded and Harry noticed that Ron had disappeared from the doorway. He helped her up, slightly confused as to why she wasn't as achy as he was, and stayed close as she walked to the kitchen. They had to greet everyone, but Hermione wasn't saying much to anyone that wasn't Harry.

Then Bill said, "So, Harry, that blood you were covered in… was it yours or…?" He was fishing.

Hermione was staring at him and he could never lie to her, so he said, "Some was mine, some Hermione's, and some Dobby's…"

Fleur frowned, "Ef some was yourz, zen why deden't you let us 'elp you?"

Harry sighed and closed his eyes trying to pretend he was exhausted. "It wasn't anything big. I took care of it well enough…" Some sick part of him hoped it'd get infected.

"Liar," Hermione whispered to him, only to him. Everyone else had heard anyway.

Harry sighed and looked at her. "I know." He didn't deny it because he was proud of it. He got this for her. With her in some weird experience that was traumatic and crazy and terrifying. He got it for her, and that's all that matters.

Hermione held his gaze, his never judging, always caring gaze. "I'll figure it out," she said louder. Her voice was still a bit rough but she had still said it in true Hermione fashion.

"I know," Harry said just as softly as before.

The next day they're in the living room of Shell Cottage. Dean and Luna are with them just sitting there. Harry had just found out he was a godfather, Lupin was still there, when she said out loud _i_n front of Ron and Bill and God and everyone, "You felt it, didn't you, Harry?" She was talking about the word 'Mudblood' being carved into her arm.

He was Harry. She was Hermione. Harry doesn't lie to Hermione. "Yes," Harry muttered rubbing his arm. What she didn't know was that the word was also carved into his arm. Ron knew; he had seen it. "I felt the Cruciatus curses too…"

No one in the room knew what that meant except Ron. Now Lupin and Bill and Fleur and Dean but never ever Luna were looking at them in a strange uncomprehending way.

She stared at him for a moment before she said, "I didn't feel anything after that first one, Harry. I was faking it until you guys saved me… I didn't feel her carve _that_ into my arm… but you did…"

The tension in the room built on the silence before his response. It wouldn't lessen, no one would move, and the air was at its thickest. "Yes," he breathed. He turned toward her and stared into her mocha, chocolate, hazel eyes and found his strength there. He pulled his left sleeve up to his elbow and looked at it for a moment before showing it to her.

Everyone saw. No one said a word.

Hermione got up and traced his scabbed over version of her white lined scar. "Why?"

There were so many answers to that question. He could have chosen any of them, but he said: "Because I got this with you and for you. I always will."

She slipped his arms around her waist as she settled into him backwards. She was still tracing his soon-to-be scar and thinking about what she was and is and can be when this is over because Harry got this for her and with her and he always would.

This was them. HarryandHermione. They would always do things with and for and always together. There's no them without it, there's no him without it, no her either. They're HarryandHermione. It's how it'll always be, until the end of the world and beyond.


End file.
